


And No Tales Were Told

by Creative_Ju_Ju



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: sacking of Diorath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-02 00:18:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2792903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Creative_Ju_Ju/pseuds/Creative_Ju_Ju
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The twin sons of Dior were left, ostensibly to die.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And No Tales Were Told

**Author's Note:**

> In my head, the twins made it to the eastern sea and became trees to watch over the forests. The Silmarillion has quite enough death. I may flesh this out later.

It was both quiet and loud in the wilderness. Quiter than the battle and the moans of those whose feä were forsaking their hroä. It loud with silence as well. The birds no longer sang. The squirrels had fled the smell of blood. All they could hear was cawing of the ravens. THey could not see them though. It was dark. They were scared, shaken, in shock. They clutched each other, the only warmth and love the other could cling to in the once-welcoming forests of Diorath. They remembered the blood-bright on the mail and shields and swords and spears, and slick across the floors and walls of the palace. They remembered their father, falling, shielding their mother, his blood, her blood, seeming so much brighter than the other reds. They remembered rough hands, angry voices, sharp pinches and slaps, but through the pain of severance from one’s parents, could barely be felt. Then there was this loud silence, and they could breathe again.   
What had happened? they asked each other. What had happened? Why were the walls so red? Why were ada’s eyes empty? Why were Nana’s eyes no longer shining? They asked, but not with words, not yet. They asked with high keening, with wails that came from such depths of such tiny, seemingly frail bodies.   
Nothing bothered them that night. By daylight, their tears were spent, but their grief had not been touched. Wordlessly, but in concert, they shakily gathered their tattered, red-stained raiment around them and stood. “Where?” croaked out Elurin, his voice rough. “Away.” answered Elured. “They’ll kill us. Like they killed Ada and Nana.”   
“Did they kill Elwing? I...I didn’t see. I only saw Ada.”  
“I don’t know. We should go.”  
“Where?”  
“To where the sky meets the earth. They couldn’t find us there. Elwing could though, if she wanted to come.”   
“Yes.”

 

They were hungry and cold. The snow lay deep upon everything, putting it to sleep. It wanted them to sleep too, but they couldn’t; they still hadn’t found the place where they could be safe. They had heard someone calling their names before they had left the great forest, and thought, for the briefest instant, that their father had come to find them. The illusion was shattered by the appearance of the bright red haried elf, holding a lantern with his only hand. He was red, red like blood, like death, like pain…  
They had left the forest, and had wandered toward the sky, but had yet to find it, and now it was winter, and they were alone. There had a band of wolves, near skeletal with hunger, that had chased them up a tree, and they had escaped by climbing jumping from branch to branch like the squirrels they used to watch in the gardens. Now they just walked on until, suddenly, it seemed their feet no longer moved along the ground, but their backs were. “Now?”  
“We’re acorns. That’s what Ada called us. We’ll rise in the spring, we’ll be green again.”  
They did rise, but a bit before spring. A band of rogues had gathered them in, hoping to ransom them to other elves. The twins cared not for their plans though, and as soon as there was green in the trees, their feet were set toward the place where the sky meets the earth again.

 

They were ragged. It had been years since they had set out. They seemed no closer to their goal, but could hear the crash of the sea beyond a rise. “Now?”  
“Now we can plant ourselves. There is no one else here. The red elves will not come. Now we can grow.”  
And so they did.


End file.
